


The Longest Night of the Year

by Raicheru



Series: The Wood [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: AU- Modern Setting Mixed with Canon Fantasy Setting, Alternate Character Origins, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas 2020, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Fluff, Found Families, Jaskier-Centric, M/M, OOC Behavior based on Alternate Character Origins, Sibling affection, Sibling bickering, Winter Solstice, fraternal relationships, wolf family, “The Wood” Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raicheru/pseuds/Raicheru
Summary: It's Jaskier's second winter in Kaer Morhen and he wants to do things a little differently this year.  Last time, there had been no Solstice celebrations or even a hint of decorations to lighten the cold, dark halls of the old keep.  Well, not this year.  Jaskier has plans and his cranky Witchers are going to help whether they want to or not.*This takes place between 'Wintering with Wolves' and 'In Destiny's Hands.'
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Wood [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794649
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	The Longest Night of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually do holiday stories but I wanted to do something for Christmas this year. So here it is. I just finished it tonight, so it's not as polished as most of my work, but it's fluffy and happy because we could all use more of that in times like these.
> 
> (This is a bit of a flashback as stated in the summary.)

“You need what?” Lambert asked him with a raised brow.

“Evergreen branches. Lots of them,” Jaskier said as he dug around in one of the chests along the wall.

“You do realize it's the middle of winter, right? Snow? Cold? No fucking reason to go outside?”

“The weather has been beautiful this week.”

“And fucking cold,” Lambert reiterated, like he hadn't heard him the first time.

“Which I'm sure your strong Witcher constitution can withstand without a problem,” Jaskier said casually, knowing he was needling him. “If you don't think you can manage, I'm sure Eskel and Coen will do it when they come back.”

Lambert growled and stared at him while multiple emotions flittered over his face. 

“Please?”

“It's fucking cold,” Lambert grumped.

“Pretty please?” Jaskier batted his eyes at him which just made the other man growl again. But after a few moments, he blew out a long, blustering breath and grabbed his sword before stalking out of the room. 

“I'll bring you so many evergreen branches, you'll drown in them,” he muttered as he left. 

“You know he's going to figure out what you're doing eventually,” Vesemir said quietly where he sat in front of the fire with a book. He turned the page without looking up.

“Of course. But I figure he'll still do it even if it's out of spite. Either way, it's win-win for me.” Jaskier grinned at the older Witcher who just harrumphed softly and sipped from his mug of tea. 

“It's your ass,” Vesemir muttered.

Jaskier just laughed and went back to what he was doing and pulled out the armor repair kit that had the big needles and thick thread. He'd been preparing all autumn for this and his carefully laid plans were starting to come together. Eskel and Coen were out in search of a large ash tree to bring back while Geralt was out gathering holly, mistletoe, and pine cones. He was under the impression that it was for some sort of alchemy experiment for human-safe salves and medicines. Jaskier wasn't about to fill him in. He might not have gone. 

He had a feeling Eskel knew what he was up to. He'd lived in the Modern City of Ard Carraigh for a while and there was no way he'd missed the explosion of lights and decorations that happened around the holiday season. Jaskier took a moment to feel disappointed that he couldn't have multicolored Solstice lights to hang everywhere. There was something so comfortable and cozy about being in a room that was only lit with fairy lights. Not for the first time, he wished he had more direct control of his magic. He'd seen mage lights before and if he could just figure out how to make them work. . . He sighed and sat to review some of the sketches he'd made in his notebook. 

His magic would just have to wait for now. He didn't really have control over it, but at least it wasn't _out_ of control. And he had plenty of designs in mind for what he wanted using the materials he had at hand. It would be a more stylized and traditional Solstice than he was use to. His family in Lettenhove had spent untold amounts of money on trendy designers to decorate the mansion and the Pankratz showroom. It had all been photographed for magazines and written up in style blogs nearly every year as some of the most cutting edge and stylish holiday decorations.

Jaskier always thought it was pretentious and hideous. 

His personal decorating with Essi had always been eclectic and purposefully tacky. He enjoyed a lot of sparkle and glitter to his Solstice, much to the dismay and disapproval of the family. It just made it that much sweeter to piss them off. But this year, he was a bit limited in what he could do. He had to draw from natural materials and things that could be gathered. It wasn't like there was a department store nearby that stocked supplies and put things on display months ahead of time. 

But there was something pleasing about gathering evergreen boughs and holly from the valley around the keep. It was a much more personal and down to earth method that made Jaskier feel good. He went into the kitchen to start making popcorn. He'd bargained with a farmer before they headed up the mountain passes so he had a full sack of dried corn. He was pretty sure some of it would get eaten before being used for its intended purpose, so he had plenty of extra. 

By the time Geralt got back with piles of holly, mistletoe, and a sack full of pine cones, Jaskier had a long strand of popcorn and cranberries coiled up in front of him where he sat at the large, main table. Geralt came over to see what he was doing on the way to the fire. He'd shucked his snowy boots in the entrance hall and switched to a dry pair to come inside, but there was cold radiating off his cloak. Jaskier tiled his head up to accept an icy kiss. 

“There's mulled cider on the stove,” Jaskier told him as he kept sliding popcorn and cranberries onto the thread using the needle he'd borrowed. The scent of spiced apples and orange peel filled the room pleasantly.

“Dare I ask?” Geralt drawled as he pulled off his cloak and went over to hang it before heading through the broken opening in the wall they used as a kitchen door. 

“Indulge me,” Jaskier said easily as he kept working. To his surprise, Geralt sat down across from him when he came back in with a mug and started on another strand. Jaskier's lips curled in a small smile. “Thank you for going out and getting things for me.”

“I still would have done it if I'd known you wanted to decorate. You didn't have to hide it behind a story about medicines and salves.”

Jaskier peered up at him through his bangs. He needed another haircut. “Actually, I'm going to dry some of the leaves to use for tea, so it wasn't a complete fabrication.” He shrugged. “But I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it. We've never discussed Solstice before.”

“I don't really feel one way or the other about it,” Geralt rumbled as he pierced another cranberry with his needle. “Witchers don't really celebrate much.”

“And that's a shame,” Jaskier murmured as he reached across the table and curled his fingers around Geralt's hand. He probably should have at least mentioned it first, and he hoped that none of the others would have any bad memories associated with the season. Geralt squeezed his hand before gently pulling away and continuing to work on his strand.

“Are you going to drape these over the tree Eskel and Coen are getting for you?”

“No. I'm not going to put up a tree in here. Lambert would just set it on fire for fun.”

Both Geralt and Vesemir chuckled. 

“And astute observation,” Vesemir observed.

“I'm going to have them strip it and bring it in for the yule log,” Jaskier said with a smile.

“Hmm.” Geralt grumbled. “It'll smoke too much when it's fresh cut.”

“Shit. I hadn't thought about that.” Jaskier wasn't sure why he felt the tight curl of disappointment. They'd never done the traditional yule log when he was growing up and most of the places he'd lived with Essi didn't allow open flames. But it was something that he wanted to do this year.

“It's alright,” Vesemir said as he set his book aside and took his mug to the kitchen. “I'll have them set it aside for next year and we'll bring up the one that's been seasoning since this spring.” He nodded at Jaskier before heading out of sight into the kitchen to finish getting dinner ready.

Warmth bloomed in Jaskier's chest and he bent over his string of cranberries, realizing that he'd strung five of them in a row without alternating like he'd done with the rest. It didn't matter, really. The birds wouldn't care. Last year he'd spent some time talking to Vesemir about Solstice and the things he'd like to do in the future. This particular venture had been in the works for months now, but Jaskier hadn't mentioned it to anyone. It appeared that the old Witcher had remembered and done some preparations of his own. The thought made Jaskier sigh in contentment. He looked up to see Geralt watching him with a fond look on his face. When he saw that Jaskier caught his soft expression, he curled his lip and bent back down over the table, making Jaskier laugh.

“Melitele's tits, it's getting cold out there.” Eskel's voice carried from the entryway as stomped inside to get the snow off his boots. Jaskier couldn't hear Coen, but he had no doubt that he was out there too. The Cat could be damned quiet when he wanted.

“Everything alright?” Jaskier asked him as the other Wolf came into the main room. 

“It's all good. We got the tree and we've stripped all the branches. We'll leave everything out in the stables for now and deal with the rest later.”

Coen came in behind him, heading straight for the fire. “Temperature is dropping quickly. There's weather on the way.” It wasn't quite dark yet, but the afternoon was waning.

“Did either of you see Lambert while you were out? I sent him out earlier but he's not back yet.” Jaskier was a little worried about the weather. If a storm ripped through, it could strand him somewhere in the valley until it cleared.

“Don't worry your pretty little head, Princess.” Lambert emerged from the entryway, flipping his cloak off him with a flourish. The heavy scent of pine clung to him and wafted out into the room.

“Did you cut the evergreen boughs or make love to them?” Jaskier asked with a smirk. “You smell like a tree.”

Lambert glowered as his brothers laughed. “You never did say what you wanted them for,” he grumbled.

“We're going to make wreaths,” Jaskier declared as he finished his strand and set it aside. 

“ _We_?” Coen turned from where he was tending to the fire. 

“Sure. We have plenty of evergreen, holly, and mistletoe. If figure we could get started after dinner. It'll be nice.” Jaskier sat in a circle of golden eyes and felt no apprehension or worry. He'd long since grown comfortable with the reality of Witchers instead of the uneducated fantasy of them. And there were no objections to his suggestion, just some bafflement and mild amusement. 

Two hours later, they were all gathered at the large main table surrounded by piles of greenery and mugs if mulled wine. Lambert had made a moderately sized sledge out of branches and there was a huge pile of boughs over in the corner now. The scent of spices and pine filled the air and with the warmth of the fire, it made Jaskier's heart settle. He'd actually expected a fair bit of bitching and complaining, but they all settled down with only a few comments and questions about what he had in mind. Jaskier started telling stories of Solstice from when he was younger. Despite how awful his family had been, it wasn't all bad. 

“So you're telling me you used to sit around a dead tree and eat candy out of a sock,” Lambert said with a hefty dose of skepticism. “You're shitting me.”

Jaskier laughed. Without context, it did sound pretty ridiculous. “Not a sock that had been worn,” he said, making a face. “They were decorative stockings made for the purpose.” But of course, seven year old Jaskier had put on the over-sized stockings once and padded around the house in them until the nanny made him take them off so she could hang them back up over the fireplace. 

“Moderns are weird,” Lambert muttered as he worked on his wreath. It was fairly large, larger than all the others, but he was having trouble getting it to remain circular and it was a bit oblong. 

“It's not all bad,” Eskel said as he added a few more sprigs of holly berries to his medium sized wreath. “I like the music and the atmosphere is nice as long as you don't let yourself get overwhelmed by the commercials and the crowded stores.” He shook his head. “Went to the mall in Ard Carraigh once during Solstice and nearly stabbed a shop girl when she spritzed me with perfume.”

Jaskier winced. “Yeah. The only reason I went during the holiday was to see the window displays.” He didn't mind crowds, but holiday crowds were a different classification of beast. And the rampant commercialization of the holiday could make it lose some of its luster if you let it. But he'd never been interested in that. He'd learned to celebrate for his own reasons because it made the whole thing more meaningful.

“Manylla celebrates winter Solstice in summer,” Coen said with a small smile.

“Does that make anyone angry?” Jaskier asked him. Holiday traditions in the Wood tended to have more religious and primal beliefs attached to them. Bucking tradition could mean more than just alienating family and friends. It could mean getting stoned or burned at the stake in some places.

“Caravista is a small town, but not a backwater one,” Coen reassured him. “She gets away with being labeled as eccentric rather than a heretic. I believe she just likes being contrary.”

Lambert smirked. “Does that mean she hangs flower garlands and dances around the maypole in the middle of winter? Caravista is in the south, but it's still snowy as fuck.”

“You wish,” Coen Snorted as he continued to braid evergreen sprigs into a small but complicated circular pattern. It looked like he'd had some experience with weaving. “She celebrates Yule twice a year instead of just the once. I think she just likes gingerbread and it's an excuse to make it.”

What a great idea. Jaskier mentally rifled through the supplies in the pantry to see if they had everything. He'd have to see if they had any ginger. He didn't have much experience baking in a flame fueled oven as opposed to an electric one, but Vesemir could help with that. He was really good at regular bread and biscuits. This couldn't be too different. And if Jaskier could figure out gingerbread, maybe he could convert the recipe to make cookies.

Twisting the last bit of wire around a pine cone, Jaskier set his wreath down. There were five pine cones spaced around his wreath. The one at the top was paired with a bright cluster of berries and he smiled. Looking up, he saw Geralt watching him again. His own wreath lay on the table in front of him, mostly unadorned except for a cluster of white mistletoe at the top. Jaskier's mouth curled in a soft smile. When Geralt got up to go into the kitchen, he followed him and they washed the sap off their hands. Then he was being pressed back into the sink while Geralt kissed him breathless with a soft press of lips. He smiled against the Witcher's mouth.

“We should go upstairs before Vesemir scolds us again,” he mumbled.

“Hmm.”

“We'll just clean up all this shit, then,” Lambert called from the other room, sounding distinctly put-out. There was the solid thump of someone punching him in the shoulder. “If I bring a fuck buddy next winter, does that mean I get to skip cleanup too?” he grumbled.

“Lambert,” Vesemir murmured, like a tired dad who didn't have anything left to deal with petty squabbles. 

Before Jaskier could reply or say goodnight, Geralt lifted him up with his arms around him. Jaskier wrapped his legs around Geralt's waist and let the other man carry him upstairs to their room. Soon, he didn't have the breath or the focus to worry about the holiday detritus downstairs. 

*******

Jaskier spent the next couple days in the kitchen baking and working on a gingerbread recipe that could be turned into cookies. Lambert was surprisingly happy to eat the mistakes even when they were a little burned. Next year Jaskier would have to plan ahead and see if he could do something with sugar to make icing for decorating. 

It was still a couple days until the actual Solstice. He'd come downstairs the other morning to find the finished wreaths hanging in a row along the large mantle over the fire. The seasoned log had been brought out and it sat waiting to be burned on the longest night of the year. Jaskier was going to use the rest of the evergreen to make some garlands and he was working on a way to convince one or more of the Witchers to help him hang it. He'd found a length of red cloth in one of the linen closets he could use as a runner for the table. It was too large for a full tablecloth, but that was probably for the best. There was also a big crate of candles in the supply room. While he didn't want to waste them, he wanted to set up a couple of the large candelabras for the big night. 

Eskel and Coen had been shelling nuts for him that morning and he had full bowls of pecans, walnuts, and hazelnuts to work with. There were two types of winter squash waiting to be roasted and he'd spotted a goose in the cold closet that had magical ice that never melted. There was also a haunch of beef that he was going to crust with herbs before roasting. It was going to be a full day of cooking and he was looking forward to it. Vesemir seemed amused by the list he'd made.

Setting the latest batch of cookies to cool, he brushed off his hands and washed them before going out into the main room. He checked the sacks of ornaments he'd been working on in between baking. While he wasn't going to put up a tree indoors, there was the perfect pine tree on a small rise by the gate. He could see it from the window in Geralt's room and they passed it every time they went out the gates. The bones in the moat no longer bothered him the way they did the first time he'd seen them. The painful echoes of the past were quieter now even though the visible evidence remained. Maybe he could lighten it further by decorating the tree. 

“You guys ready?” he asked.

“Ready to go out in the snow again,” Lambert muttered as he pulled on his cloak. “Sure.”

Eskel thumped his arm. “Fresh air will do you good.”

“I have spent most of my life outside. Fresh air is the least of my worries.”

“Shut up and carry this,” Jaskier told him as he thrust a sack into his hands.

Lambert growled at him but complied. “Why isn't Vesemir partaking in this lovely tradition of yours?” he grumbled.

“He's making dinner which should be ready by the time we get back,” Jaskier told him as he bundled up in a cloak and pulled his hood up. It was snowing lightly outside, but it wasn't so cold that it would be too much of a problem. Jaskier grabbed one of the sacks and headed toward the door with all four of his Witchers following. They trailed through the courtyard and over the drawbridge to a small hill outside the gate. There, a perfectly shaped tree rose above the zigzagging path the led down into the valley. 

“Let's start at the top and work our way down,” Jaskier said as he looked up at the top of the tree that rose above him. “I need a boost.” He wiggled his fingers at Geralt who sighed in resignation before kneeling down in front of him. Jaskier carefully climbed up on his shoulders and focused on keeping his balance as the other man stood up to give Jaskier the reach he needed. 

Eskel handed up the star Jaskier had made from pine boughs, berries, and colored ribbon along with a spool of wire. Jaskier attached it to the top of the tree, making sure that it would stay before passing the wire back down and reaching for the first strand of popcorn and cranberries. When the top of the tree was decorated and Jaskier was back on the ground, they spent the next while hanging the rest of the strands and the pine cones that had been strung on thread so they could hang from the branches.

When they were done, Jaskier snuggled up under Geralt's cloak. “I wish we had electricity, so we could have Solstice lights. But this is nice.” The light, fluffy snow was starting to dust the branches and the pine cones, making the whole thing rather picturesque. 

“Eh. It's not so bad, I guess,” Lambert admitted. “A lot of work for stuff that's just going to rot though.”

“The birds and squirrels will eat most of it and the rest will compost into the earth. It's a nice bit of symbolism,” Jaskier said as lyrics about the passing of seasons and renewal started forming in his head. He needed to get back to the keep and start making notes. 

“I like it better with the snow,” Coen said thoughtfully. “Maybe I can convince Manylla to actually celebrate Summer next year.” 

They all went back into the keep where there was a warm fire and hot food. After dinner they demolished the cookies that had taken so long to work out, but it was worth it to see a bunch of quiet, gruff warriors smiling over plates of soft baked cookies. Jaskier was content. 

That night as he lay in bed with Geralt, he traced soft patterns along the planes of the other man's chest. The room was warm with a fire burning hot in the hearth and the Witcher was loose limbed and pliant beneath his hands. Jaskier lived for nights like this where they took their time. When Geralt relaxed completely and let his guard down. It felt like such a rare gift. Jaskier pressed soft kisses to his jaw, mouthing at the rough stubble that brushed roughly at his lips. Geralt let out a rumbling hum beneath him and slide his hand up Jaskier's back to thread gently through his hair. Turning his head, he met his mouth and rolled him onto his back. It would be some time before they got to sleep yet.

*******

The day of the Winter Solstice, Jaskier spent a fair amount of time in the kitchen while the Witchers hung around in the main room taking the day off from chores entirely. It was nice to see them without armor for a change. It was a comfortably, lazy day. The meat was slow roasting and the bread was baking. Jaskier was trying his hand at pudding, but he wasn't quite sure how good it would come out. The dates and figs were easy enough to deal with, but preparing the cloth to boil it was turning out to be a messy challenge. And it needed to cook for a few hours and keeping it at a steady boil over a fire would be no small feat. 

“What's this?” Eskel asked as he came into the kitchen.

“Probably a bad idea,” Jaskier said with a grin. “I'm pretty sure it will taste amazing, but getting there is the hard part.” He slapped Eskel's hand when he reached for the bowl of fruit paste, butter, and sugar he'd prepared the night before. “This is for cooking, not for random munching or taste testing.” He nodded at the carefully laid out plates on the sideboard. “Those are for eating.” He'd made up some platters of snacks earlier because he'd known this would happen. Eskel chuckled and went over to inspect the offerings.

“They're so pretty, I feel like I shouldn't touch them.”

“I've already committed them to memory, so graze away. Could you bring them out into the other room before I'm overrun by people trying to steal my ingredients?”

“No problem.” Eskel's voice was muffled as he munched on one of the small pastries form the nearest plate. There was a chorus of appreciative noises in the other room when he brought the food out. Geralt came in as Jaskier was boiling the cloth to put the pudding in. 

“Do you need a hand with anything?”

“Hm. Not really, but you can hang out and keep me company.” 

“I never pictured you taking to cooking so quickly,” Geralt said as he perched on one of the stools at the main table. 

Jaskier snorted. “Me either. It started out because I got tired of field rations when things were lean. Now its' something that I actually like to do.” He carefully pulled the cloth out of the pot and spread flour on it before spooning the pudding ingredients into it. Humming to sooth his slightly burned fingers, he stopped himself and to let them heal naturally. He'd run the risk of scarring his fingertips if he used magic and that could be a problem down the line. 

“Burned yourself?”

“Not badly. Just a little toasty on the fingertips. It's fine.” Gathering up the edges of the cloth, he bound it tightly and dropped it carefully into the pot. “Alright.” He put his hands on his hips and reevaluated his to-do list. “Shit. Now I need to babysit this thing all afternoon.” 

Geralt chuckled and the sound was warm and lovely. Jaskier went over and cupped his face in his hands before kissing him soundly. “Happy Solstice.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in and out of the kitchen while Jaskier checked on the food with Vesemir's help. And when the sun set, they put the huge ash log on the fire so it could start to burn. Dinner was gorgeous with the look of everything exceeding Jaskier's expectations. When all the dishes were placed and the table was set, he actually felt a little lump in his throat. 

“Are you alright?” Coen asked him as he laid a hand on his back.

“Yeah.” Jaskier cleared his throat. “I'm good. It's just. . .pretty.”

“It is.” Coen's hand rubbed soft circles for a moment before retreating so he could sit. Nearly all of the Witchers were surprisingly tactile with people they trusted. It gave Jaskier a warm feeling to be included. 

Dinner was excellent and it felt surprisingly good to see all of them well fed. This was one of the few things he could do for them. He'd thought about getting them presents, but it had ended up stressing him out too much. What did you buy for a Witcher? There wasn't a whole lot that they wanted or needed. Traveling supplies and tools would be appreciated but that didn't feel right. And trinkets felt too frivolous. But this. Cooking and feeding them and seeing them content and quietly happy was as good a gift as he could think of. 

When it came time for the pudding, he poured the brandy sauce over it and put it on plates. And when they all took their first bite, their expressions shifted through a variety of expressions. Confused, Jaskier took a spoonful and nearly spit it out. 

“Hm.” He struggled with the bite and swallowed it. “Uh. I think I may have forgotten to put sugar in it.” It was pasty and a bit tasteless. Despite the fruit and juice having natural sugars, it wasn't enough and it tasted like he imagined spackle would taste if you added dried fruit to it.

“Got any cookies left?” Lambert asked hopefully as he wiped his tongue on his napkin. 

“After you ravaged them like a starved Werewolf?” Coen asked. “Probably not.”

“And that's the beauty of anticipating nearly every eventuality,” Jaskier said as he went into the kitchen and pulled out the stash of cookies he'd hidden in one of the cabinets. He'd been saving them for the following morning, but this seemed like a good time to break them out.

The dishes were cleared and the kitchen cleaned before they all settled around the fire. Many hands really did make light work. Jaskier settled with his lute and sang about renewal and the passing of seasons until the sun rose to kiss the horizon after the longest night of the year. The log was burning long and well, bringing tidings of a prosperous year. 

“Well,” Eskel said. “We, uh. We have a few things,” he said. “For you.”

Jaskier blinked. He hadn't expected anything. He hadn't even told them he was going to do this. He just kind of sprung it on them a few days ago.  
Coen handed him a small package. Inside was a set of beautiful, high quality lute strings.

“Oh, wow. Thank you. These are. . . gorgeous.” He'd been wondering what he was going to do if he ever broke a string. He'd been lucky so far, but it was bound to happen eventually. Regular strings and catgut didn't seem to be appropriate for his grandfather's lute. 

“There's an Elven luthier that lives on the outskirts of Kagen,” Coen said as he sat back down. “He keeps to himself mostly, but I helped him out with a Graveir once. If you ever need someone to look at your lute, he might be to one to see. He does some amazing work.”

Jaskier's heart skipped a beat. He'd have to keep that in mind. Maybe he knew his grandfather.

“Well that's hard to follow,” Lambert muttered. Pulling out a small package, he tossed it over. Jaskier fumbled it and the heavy item landed in his lap. It was a neatly bound book that would fit easily in his pack. The leather was dyed a deep aqua and it had scrolling, gilded designs along the outside edges. But when he opened the cover, the pages were blank. Lambert shrugged. “You keep talking about writing memoirs someday. I figure you should have something. . .” He cleared his throat. “. . .pretty to write them down in.”

Jaskier grinned. “It's lovely. Thank you.”

Vesemir handed him a long, thin object and he opened it to find a sleek knife with a thin, slightly curved blade. There were whorled patterns along the handle. “Your dagger will serve you well for most things, but this is sharper and will hold its edge better. It'll be good for scaling fish.”

“This is much appreciated. Thank you.” The last time he'd filleted a fish, which was easier for him than cleaning game, the scales had flown everywhere and he'd ended up with butchered fish bits. He'd breaded them and fried them in oil, so it wasn't a complete loss, but this would be so much better.

Eskel's gift was small wooden box that looked just like Geralt's potion chest. Jaskier accepted the chest and looked at him with mild suspicion. “If this is filled with noxious potions that I can't drink, I'll be very upset.”

Eskel smiled and laughed. “Just open it.”

Jaskier made a small, pleased noise when he opened the lid. Inside, was an array of jars and vials, all containing spices and cooking oils. “Lovely. Thank you so much.” 

“It should be small and light enough to carry in your pack, but it will hold everything you need.” 

“Some of these are pretty rare,” Jaskier said as he opened a vial of saffron and inhaled softly.

“We made a list and split it up last year,” Coen said. “They're not too hard to find if you know where to look.

Jaskier grinned at Geralt. “Cooking on the road is going to be so much tastier now.”

Geralt rolled his eyes , but his smile ruined the effect. “More like I'll have to suffer through your experiments over the cooking fire.” 

“Oh, yes. Eating better prepared food is such a hardship.”

Geralt got up and went over to one of the chests along the wall and came back with a burlap sack. When Jaskier set the chest of spices aside, he took it with a raised brow. Inside was a leather traveling pack that was adorned with ivy stamped into the leather along the sides and braided ties. It was really well made and it was an excellent replacement for the pack he'd brought with him from Lettenhove. Essi had sprung for the best, but after being dragged around the continent for two years, it was starting to show some wear. Of course Geralt would get him something practical. But when he opened it to look inside, the personal nature of the gift hit home.

There were small pockets on the inside for some of the keepsakes Jaskier carried with him. He kept the Rusalka's opal in a pocket inside his doublet and he wore the Leshen's Heartwood pendant always. But there was a spot for the chunk of Optima Mater Bodger had given him and it was already tucked inside. There were little triangular spots for lute picks and another spot for the strings Coen had just given him and the knife from Vesemir. It had a space for everything so he wouldn't have to dig through a pile of crap to get what he needed. 

Leaning over, he gave Geralt a long, deep kiss. “Thank you.”

“How come I didn't get a kiss?” Lambert snarked.

Smirking, Jaskier went over and planted a big one right on his lips. It left the other man blinking in confusion for a minute before he grinned stupidly.

“Damn, Princess. Now I know what I've been missing.”

Jaskier laughed and settled in his chair again before tucking all his gifts into the new pack. “Thank you. All of you. I'm starting to feel a bit guilty that I didn't get you anything.” He was met with several confused looks.

“Jaskier, you've been cooking for days,” Eskel said. “We haven't eating this well in. . .well, ever. No offense, Vesemir.”

“None taken,” the older Witcher said as he took a sip from his mug of mulled wine, unperturbed. “I'm grateful for the reprieve and the results are starting to surpass my efforts in the kitchen.”

Jaskier flushed a little. Most of what he knew about Old World cooking had come from him. 

“And this place is way less boring in the winter now that I'm not stuck with these assholes by myself,” Lambert said with a smirk. Jaskier laughed, flushing with pleasure at the compliments. 

“I'm just glad I have have a place to stay for the winter.” He'd been invited to stay in Oxenfurt this year, but the idea of being parted from Geralt or missing his Witchers was too much, so he'd politely declined. This was becoming more of a home than anywhere he'd ever stayed before. “And now that we've had some practice. Next year is going to be even bigger.”

There was a chorus of groans mixed with smirking smiles. Oh, they'd definitely be doing this again next year.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!


End file.
